Jericho's Bane: Path to Desolation Part I

By Arrow J Knight

Book II in the series follows Jericho's failure to subdue Imperial has led to Lucien Arcane becoming an Earthly deity. Far from ending his bid to ascend, Lucien initiates his two-phase plan to eliminate Michael and his Archs as well their only mortal hope, Jericho Bane from existence. Under orders, the De-Mon Painell will embark on an emissary

• Language: English
• Publisher: AJ Knight
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737304142

Book preview

One

AFTERMATH

He will be with me in Paradise. I made this promise to those that followed me as apostles. I made the same promise to two criminals on Golgotha. You think it would be any less for Cassiel and Uriel?

                                                                                                      ~Yeshua

Immediately following the United Nations revelatory event of New York

Angelic Spire, Iayhoten

Majority of the Archs sit somberly in Sparrows Chamber. The last twenty-four hours of Earth’s events have been crushing and that is the least that can be said. The blow wasn’t one, but many consecutive. The best chance of rectifying prophecy failed with the fall of Jericho. Cassiel was humanized and killed protecting what Gabriel believes is the best asset in restoring balance. Lucifer set himself on high in the mortal realm and Imperial has been revealed to the world as an angelic deity. The last twenty-four hours has indeed shifted chance and power out the hands of Zero Realm’s guardians and has completely taken their battle initiative. If there should have ever been a moment that hope should wane, this is it.

As always when in the Chamber of Sparrows, all are equal. There is no rank above another. Ranks of color and caste signified by the patches on everyone’s arms are muted. In the Sparrows Chamber white patches on their shoulders is a tangible sign and reminder that anyone may speak out of turn without reprisal. Here, the lowest ranked Archs are just as equal as the Captain of Archs.

Dressed in their brilliant regalia, they all wear their ceremonial white formfitting tunics with white sashes in uniform with their form-fitting pants with an even brighter set of white stripes down the length of their pants legs. Their boots are metallic and knee high, but different from their warrior class boots. The ceremonial ones are of white marble over portions of the metal. All in attendance wear white knee-length slender coats with hoods. The regalia as well as the call to the chamber is for the passing and remembrance of Cassiel.

This meeting of the varying caste sits at the long gold trimmed white marbled table. A few of the Archs gaze at the empty seat that was once reserved for Cassiel. Others gaze at his sword and helmet that now permanently sit atop the table where he once would write down his questions before asking them. At times, the brothers when speaking at the Table of Doves had a penchant to be long-winded. He would joke that if he didn’t write the question down, he’d forget. He was joking, of course, but all of them knew it was true. It became an inside joke that when he started to scribble, if you were the Arch talking, that you’d reached the end of everyone’s attention span. Funny… You don’t realize that you miss small things like that till the person is gone. It seems to always work that way and it didn’t matter if you were an Arch or human or Vax. To miss someone that is no longer there is missing a piece of you. If there is one thing that living beings had in common with the gods, it is that missing someone is a universal feeling that binds all things.

A creak of the massive door opening inward echoes through the chamber. The door itself slid across the floor igniting the translucent liquid diamond grout flowing in between the marbled squares that comprises the makeup of the floor. The chamber had not always been as decadent in its creation, but as the Archs have been meeting in the chambers more regularly as of late, the Powers Corps upgraded the chamber to match their lofty status of being the elite order of the celestials. The Powers didn’t do it to manifest the Arch’s pride as a separate faction. They did it, because of the sacrifices that they make. Whenever the Powers Corp improved the Spire or an Archs gear, it was a gift of love and appreciation for what they do in place of the Powers, so that they could continue on with constant galactical maintenance that was constantly required. The Powers Corps considered upgrading their meeting place a true honor and privilege and were more than pleased to do it.

Through the opened massive doors Michael and Gabriel enter the chamber wearing their best regalia, which matches the rest of the Archs in attendance. The pressure of each step kindles the translucent liquid diamond grouted in between the marble squared floor. It ignites a cadre of colors across each square they step upon.

All Archs in attendance stand instantly to attention rendering chest-level salutes. Old habits die hard, it seems. Michael salutes back then waves them to be seated. Approaching the table, Gabriel nods at her brothers and proceeds to find her seat at the Table of Doves next to Michael’s. Once seated, she places four unused rolled scrolls in front of her in preparation of recording the minutes of the meeting. Settled, she reaches into her coat and retrieves a platinum binding cover. She unrolls the scrolls placing them into the metallic binder. Once inside, she runs her finger up the spine of the book engaging the locks that holds the papyrus in place. The pages begin to illuminate. Gabriel then readies her quill and the small container of molten liquid fire. She dips the quill into the liquid flame covering its tip. The tip now glowing with orange and blue flame gives a swift small nod to Michael that she’s ready record.

Michael remains standing observing protocols as he always does. He informs the Archs of how to conduct themselves if the King or Prince are to attend, although to date they never have. He further reminds them that no voice is beneath another in the Sparrows Chamber and that all are equal in having a chance to speak openly, the floor is an open forum. Having said his piece by giving his redundant soliloquy, a few nods are seen gestured while others bang their fists on the table signifying their agreement of rules and that they will abide by them. Satisfied, Michael starts to part his lips to begin the meeting, when he finds himself briefly turning his attention toward the now vacant seat of Cassiel. He decides to start the conclave by addressing the oversized elephant in the room, as the human aphorism goes. Again, he parts his lips to speak when he’s interrupted by the massive entry doors to the chamber echoing open a second time. All attention, including his, is called toward the entrance.

Prince Yeshua enters the Sparrows Chamber. The arrival of the Prince causes a few gasps and murmurs, because Prince Yeshua has never attended a meeting of the Archs. They always observed protocol in anticipation of his arrival, but that had become a formality overtime as opposed to preparation of the arrival of the Christ. As this moment is unprecedented, there is a slight delay in the rendering of protocol acknowledging the Prince by kneeling. Yeshua entrance throws them off their game as most are in disbelief that the one and future king has come to Sparrows Chamber.

Mggmmm! Michael clears phlegm from his throat snapping the Archs out of amazement to the minding of their observance of due protocol. He snaps to attention which reminds the Archs to stand to attention as well. They all stand in unison and perform the perfect synchronized salute while falling to one knee, kneeling before Yeshua.

Yeshua stops in his tracks and returns the salute in kind. Forgo protocol, please! I am here as a fellow brother in this hour and have come to mourn with family, he says, waving them to all rise and to be seated.

The Archs don’t move. They hold their attention on Yeshua while kneeling. Michael completes his salute and rises. He side-steps right to the head of the table to pull the Prince’s chair from underneath it. Yeshua nods at the gesture and realizes they will continue to subjugate to him rules of the chamber be damned. He continues to the head chair of the table, adjusting his white knee length coat before sitting. Michael steps back behind his seat and gesticulates with his hand the order for the Archs to rise and be seated. Now that the Prince sat firmly ensconced behind his place at the table, the rest of the Archs stood and found theirs.

A few still observing Yeshua nod in quiet respect for what they observed about him. To show solidarity, the Prince had also dressed in his best ceremonial white regalia. He has all identifying marks of his stature as the Prince muted on his Archean military inspired regalia. The Archs have never witnessed such a gesture. Michael, unable to conceal his admiration, can’t help but smirk at the supreme gesture of solidarity. Yeshua was truly something unique. Never has Michael known the King to make such a gesture. Why would he, though? He’s the King and a King lives by a different set of rules a different code of life. A King could never enter into a situation where he could concede rank or power. A Prince, however, is slightly different. Prince hood was one of diplomatic entanglements where there would be need to attend and observe rituals of the dignitaries that were to be negotiated with. This was no different. He had the authority and chose to forego power of authority to commune and observe the rules of the Arch’s in their Chamber. He was diplomatic like that.

Yeshua takes a few seconds in silence to gaze at the empty chairs of Uriel and now Cassiel. He looks at the bruises that are still healing on the face of Gabriel after her encounter with the Nephilim, Imperial.

Did you not respond to convalescence for treatment Gabriel? says Yeshua.

Not as of yet your Grace. Conclave first, then I will respond down, Gabriel answers.

There was a pride in his eyes when he nodded acceptance of Gabriel’s answer. Archs were his Father’s creation, but he was given operational oversight of them. He left them to their own autonomy with Michael as their Captain. All he asked in return was to be kept in the loop and given final decision on matters which may conflict with King’s orders. That aside, their captain handled day to day operations of the Spire and how best to protect the realms. As Yeshua looks around the table, he could barely contain the pride that he had for them. Yes, they were his father’s creation, but he was as well and he’d grown alongside his Archs and was as close to them as any brother could be.

Yeshua gives a wink toward Gabriel signifying for her to get her wounds looked at soon thereafter. He then looks past her to the two empty chairs of Fatetanen and Azrael. Slightly surprised they’re not in attendance, he glances over toward Michael looking for an explanation for their absence.

Michael is more than ready for the inquiry. He was prepared the minute Yeshua entered the Chamber. Fate had requested another try at thwarting the ongoing conflict by way of more diplomacy. He wished another go at Lucifer. I agreed and approved a mission of reasoning with the former Morning Star in hopes that he could convince the fallen Seraphim to abdicate his apocalyptic intentions… A final appeal your grace from his closet caste, brother.

Yeshua gives Michael a slight side eye. Captain, if Lucifer would not bend a knee to the throne or to the love of his younger brother’s request, Yeshua said, pointing to Michael. What makes you believe Fate’s attempt will fare better results?

I don’t believe he will succeed my Lord, but so many have already died or received the sentence of Palengrad due to this ongoing war, those of us here not being exempt. I thought diplomatic lines should remain open until a time that they shouldn’t. If we are able to reason and avert the coming calamity that will not just engulf Earth, but the whole of the Sadohedranicverse for just awhile longer, is it not worth the attempt? Where the King and I failed, may Fate succeed.

After a moment of silence Yeshua nods in agreement with Michael’s logic. And what of Azrael?

He’s been dispatched to Nosfor with a battalion of Choiretic. Nosforian Council of Elders sent word of Lucifer’s plans to move in shadow to overthrow them. Legion Prime has been reported to be there undermining Lamechian dated covenants for them to forever remain neutral. Azrael is to investigate, report his findings, and take forceful action if intel proves founded. He is to end the coup and enforce covenant.

Hmm! I see. When you ran probable analysis of the working theory of a coup through the Powers Corp, what was there findings? asks Yeshua.

Powers Corps believe with a 92% probability Legion has been sent there to establish the old alliances of Noah’s day, answers Michael. He recruiting, your grace.

Yeshua nods in approval of his findings further accepting the absence of Azrael to investigate. Turning his attention back towards the table, he takes time to look each of his Archs in their eyes. Unsheathing his sword, Righteous from its white scabbard, he places it on the table in front of him to join the weapons of all Archs that had laid theirs prior to his arrival. His sword is pristine as the day it was forged from the first of the Razine ore. His weapon has never been wielded and nor shall it be loosed until the appointed time that the Earth is to fully come under his reign as her Earthly King. So, it is written, so it shall be done.

Cassiel, will be missed, says Yeshua. We will honor him with every step forward that we take from here. I witnessed the events of the Germany encounter between Jericho and Imperial and Cassiel’s subsequent sacrifice. I further read Gabriel’s account. What Cassiel did was of the highest quality of what I have come to expect from you Archs. His sacrifice to save Jericho has not gone unnoticed. He bought us a reprieve and momentary respite from Imperial and kept the covenant in play. We will not waste it.

Yeshua turns toward Michael. The honored dead aside, Captain you may begin the conclave.

Two

CONCLAVE

If there were to be diplomacy there would be no War.

                                                                            ~Jophiel

Michael turns his attention from Yeshua back to all his lieutenants in attendance. It wasn’t long ago that we were here mourning Uriel… Now… now, we mourn Cassiel’s absence. His praises will not go unsung. Prince Yeshua will honor his sacrifice like all those that gave all in his service. Cassiel and Uriel’s fate will prove better than ours on that great and terrible day.

Yeshua nodding. He speaks truth, they will be with me in Paradise. I made this promise to those that followed me as apostles. I made the same promise to two criminals on Golgotha. You think it would be any less for Cassiel and Uriel?

Thoom, thoom, thoom, thoom, thoom! Archs beat the table in unison at the promise their fallen will receive a just afterlife.

When the beating stops, Michael again stands erect and resolute. We will mourn the loss of our brother Cassiel properly. I promise, just not this day. Today we have a concern that has not been seen since the age of Noah, son of Lamech. Brothers! Sister! Michael says, nodding toward Gabriel. We are in unscripted territory. The work of Fatetanen has been incredibly thorough and for the most part true to his current blueprint of events in lieu of Lucifer’s treachery. However, for the first time we have ventured completely off the scripted path with the revelation of Imperial to the continental masses of Earth. To them, we are no longer myth, legend, nor fairytale. We have been made tangible. With Lucifer committing this singular act, he again has set the realms ablaze and have thrown unwanted light upon us as we tried to move unseen through the realm of humanity.

Metatron stands. The wattage with which his unwanted light has shown is minuscule Captain. It will darken again in an age when time has all but rotted this revelation from memory. We will again fall to myth as before."

No matter how dim the light appears, it has been illuminated all the same, says Michael. A being of immense power will not go forgotten in the human age of recordable visual technology. We were to remain concealed until Elohim decided otherwise, not Lucifer, said Michael.

He paces towards Metatron. With each of our past intrusions on mankind it was beneficial and for their reproving to make them the species that Elohim believes they are capable of being. What Lucifer has done by revealing Imperial to the mortals is altered their perception of that reproving. The mortals that are currently under the Christ covenant has had their free will infringed upon. Their natural decisions as it pertains to their election of whom they will forever serve has been tampered with before the reign of the prince. Until his second arrival, it was decreed upon his departing from Calvary that the world would move on faith; thing’s not seen, but sincerely hoped for. Imperial has been seen, now what hope is there? Faith has been corrupted and turned abhorrent.

Zadkiel stands. The King and by extension the Prince has done countless wonders in front of and for the mortals. We were all there when Azrael and Cassiel brought down meteorites from the Andromeda’s belt to smite Sodom. When Sandalphon parted the Sea for Moses. What makes this interloper Imperial’s intervention any different than their past decisions to intercede in mortals’ affairs?

It was not approved by Elohim, said Michael.

Touché. Zadkiel acquiesces and sits.

Arch Haniel now stands. "Maybe we need to look at this all from a different perspective. I’m starting to rethink this matter of choice. Free will seems to be the catalyst for where we all sit currently.

Explain, said Yeshua.

Gladly, your grace. Haniel says slightly bowing. The idea of choice seems to have caused nothing but untold misery. Truth be told, Lucifer had only ignited the innateness of the concept choice. All of you have seen it out there among the Aether as I have. You know what it is I speak of. I’m saying choice was always built into the living Sadohedranicverse. It was always part of it, lying there just beneath the surface. Species need to only but evolve to access it. Us included. Lucifer was the first. Prince Yeshua sitting there, feigning ignorance knows what I speak of. Haniel’s tone very much accusing.

A condescending tongue will not be tolerated toward the Prince, says Michael with a slight bite. There will be no disrespect—

Yeshua holds out a hand, silencing Michael. We are at the Table of Doves, are we not? The table where one has no advantage of rank over the other. Let him speak. I want to hear this.

Haniel nods at Yeshua. No disrespect intended, Lord… What I’m simply saying is choice appears to be a gene that long lied dormant in creation… A gene that has been intentionally and inadvertently sparked by Lucifer. A gene you and the King withheld to everyone’s detriment. We were created to be subjugated to the will of God and do his bidding without question… so, we were told and led to believe. Then Lucifer overheard something. We all know what he heard even if best not spoken here, as it’s heresy… I digress, though. What he heard and said isn’t the point; the point is that after what he heard he did something that was supposed to be impossible. He made a choice. If we were subjects, he never would have had the thought to make choice. Yet he did. The concept was already here, it was just waiting to be discovered. And now that it was, chaos and entropy has ensued.

Yeshua’s face holds stern as he faces his Archean accuser.

A few of the Archs pound the table with double fists in agreement. Yeshua nods at the last comment, but displays no admission of guilt or remorse.

Arch Sandalphon now stands. I have remained quiet just as a few others have here at this table for some time now. I have deferred my will and voice to those in power until a time when it would be so needed. I did this so that when I spoke it would be taken with caution and great care, especially if I were to speak on matters of diplomacy. I hold my voice no longer.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump! Pounding is heard in quick rapid succession as, Haniel, Chamuel, and Raphael pound the table multiple times in solidarity with Sandalphon’s voice to speak his mind.

Thankful for the confidence to speak, Sandalphon does. Choice it appears, brothers and sister, has been our bane as Haniel has spoken. Before Raziel, Raphael and a few others seated here, I remember stories that our King told us in our infancy of creation. Remembering these stories, I remember choice leading to and being the underlying factor for conditions which led to the tale of the Clash of Monarchs. We all remember the fable of the Clash of Kings in Olympian galaxy. Remember when Elohim told these stories to pass as our entertainment, we thought how wonderful it must be to have options; to be able to choose? But what good is options if all it leads to is conflict and endless clashes? No good it appears comes from choice.

All in attendance that could remember, nodded their heads in agreement.

Because of choice, Sandalphon continues. That galaxy was laid waste in his story that I now understand is a cautionary tale… Now, in our realm of existence that fabled innate choice that we all wanted has reared horrors within our own ranks by Seraphim Lucifer when he himself exercised autonomous decision-making capability. That decision would eventually lead to attempted ascension.

Sandalphon now looked directly to the Prince. The causality of such actions of choice led to the fall of Lucifer which consequently led to the Battle of Jazekial in Realm 2814, which correct me if I’m in error, is the reason that ultimately led to the creation of Imperial, which will ultimately lead to a battle of the ending of the third age which has yet to be named… Choice has brought nothing but a list of dismays and will undoubtedly end our reign as the force authority of the Sadohedranicverse.

The room was left in utter deafening silence.

Sandalphon paused for the effect of letting his words sink in and then continued on.

Do you see where I am going with this Archs, my Prince? I’m starting to believe what Haniel has spoken in but a whisper, echoes resoundingly. Choice is causality for confliction, confliction is what devastation breathes upon and devastation leads but to one path; that path is desolation, says Sandalphon remaining standing, pondering if he’d anything else to add.

All the Archs save Michael thump their fists on the table in rapid succession repeatedly signifying their solidarity agreement with the words spoken so eloquently by Sandalphon. Yeshua nods at the passionately filled sound logic spoken from the Arch of little words. Yeshua only watched the Arch as he too started to pound the table in unison with the others. He had to agree with his wisdom, it was sound. Although he knew himself to have no part in the underlying innateness of the Sadoverse.

Metatron stands. Careful, brother, you are walking the line of the treachery of Morning Star. He, too, thought radical ideas.

Radical ideas maybe the thing that saves us all, says Raphael.

Yeshua now stands. The two Archs bow and find their seats.

No, he isn’t walking the line of treason Metatron, says Yeshua. He is speaking his mind in a setting where he has the right and authority to do so. His words are wise and carry great justification with it. Choice could have been innate in the Sadoverse. There is nothing for it now. Repercussions are what they are. We are headed for an ending of the third age. That has not changed. Lucifer has changed the course of which how we arrive, but, nonetheless, we will arrive. Everything has an ending, that is the one constant my father has always spoken. Armageddon was inevitable. It had to happen to close out the chapter on humanity and the court’s final ruling on the judgement of Seraphim Lucifer. It was to end as Fatetanen originally scripted, however that was not to be so. Whatever may come from the horrors of choice and free will, we will face it together.

Together! all the Archs yell in one voice.

Gabriel stands. We are illuminated by treachery. There’s nothing that can be done for that now, just as nothing can be done of choice. It’s happened. No longer do we need to bark over it. Choice or not, this is where we are, these are the times before us. We are here for the plan of dealing with Imperial. Let us deal with him in proper proportion to how he has dealt with us. I see at is simply, Imperial falls and we bring Lucifer to heel for all time. With that done, we return to the orderly countdown prophesized by the King and written by Fate.

Metatron stands. I agree with Gabriel, I believe the best plan is to still let the boy Jericho put down the menace as Samson did the Philistines and then we move to chain Lucifer if it so be the will of Elohim so that we may begin end proceedings.

I second that, says Gabriel pounding her fist on the table.

Michael and Yeshua look at each other than over to Gabriel.

Gabriel looks back at Yeshua, winking at him. We just have to have faith in him.

Yeshua now thumps the table twice in rapid succession.

I still believe that our faith is misplaced in Jericho, says Michael. but with us unable to intervene, what choice is there but to let this path play out… that is unless the King rescinds the order of divine intervention, Michael looking over to Yeshua somewhat hopefully that he would rescind.

Yeshua slowly nods no. "That isn’t going to happen. It has been spoken, so it is.

Then Jericho is our only option, says Michael reluctantly. I don’t agree with it, but having no other recourse, we have to clear the path for him this time. We have to get him to Imperial."

We will, said Sandalphon. "If the boy chooses to fight on after that loss he just suffered, then by Elohim, we will.

Metatron looks over to his brother Raphael and catches him looking at the empty chair of Cassiel. He leans in close to him and whispers. You okay, Raph?

Raphael gives a quick nod that he’s okay. He stands slowly and somewhat somberly. I get what Michael was saying now. Our power that once laid within the thought that we were not a palpable entity has been eroded. Imperial’s actions will awaken a war either purposefully or inadvertently as to the likes that have never been witnessed by mortals, or even us. Can a Nephilim really cause such a catastrophe of reality breaking destruction?

Yes, one can, says Yeshua. Understand young Arch, they were never meant to have existed. My father’s love for all living things stayed his hand for as long as he could. He did so until vile things thought themselves his equal. Can a being that walks both worlds cause such catastrophe you ask? To such a degree that will engulf 2814… The battle of Jazekial, the Rift of Glayden will all fail in comparison to what lies in a large-scale multicontinental, multigalaxical conflict, says Yeshua. I assure you with my unquestioned truth so you understand the gravitas young Arch; A Nephilim can bring all of that about. That is why they were wiped from existence in the age of Noah, son of Lamech.

Michael walks the length of the table and places both of his hands on Raphael’s shoulders, squarely looking him in his eyes. He places his forehead against his.

We will do all we can to avert such a calamity of local and galactic destruction. We have always been keepers of faith and protectors of the realms under Zero. Remember when the mortal Isis found the remains of Moses? Fate returned from exile and was there in an attempt to thwart this impending war of religious wills by placating to the woman’s humanity and not her hubris. She remained silent on the find of the remains after he spoke of the inevitable outcome that would occur if discovered. She listened and crisis was averted if but only for the moment. I went through great lengths to hide those remains. Hindsight, I should have moved them off world… Every challenge that arises illicit the best in us and those of other species to avoid calamitous ends. We have prevailed in the past against what we thought were insurmountable odds and we will again. Michael, still holding onto Raph’s shoulder, pulls away and looks at his Archs. Imperial is just another tool of a despot. Many of a long line that has challenged the throne. Like the others, he, too, will fall just as easy as the tower of Babel did when Nimrod challenged the Heavens.

The Archs and Yeshua pounds the table in rapid succession at the words of Michael.

That’s neither here nor there now brother, says Zadkiel. Fate did his part sure and prevented the conflict for as long as he could, but Imperial’s appearance to the world subdued all of that.

So, let’s move to the obvious question, Chamuel said, speaking for the first time as he stood.

Which is? Asks Raph.

Can Jericho win against an ethereal force? Asked Chamuel. The judge Samson took on worldly and was victorious only at the cost of his life. This is another type of force a mortal has never encountered until today and how did he fare? We all just watched him get all but annihilated. Only by the grace of Gabriel, Metatron and Cassiel, this Jericho still draws breath."

The room remains silent at the most basic of questions.

He can… He will… He must says Gabriel.

Arch Jophiel having remained silent, stands. I have a plan that might help even the odds for this Jericho and maybe even ensure some measure of success. It’s unconventional and a little pricey, but I calculate it’s worth the risk.

He will succeed, says Gabriel. What is your plan Jophiel?

Three

ALL SEEING

What good is vision if you’re blind to all else that moves?

                                                                             ~Jefarious Dugan

Cruising altitude, 35 thousand miles Above France

Bing… bing! A bell sounds over an almost empty plane. The events that occurred halfway around the world in New York has echoed across the oceans. After the reveal of Imperial over 24 hours ago, the affairs of human existence paused to reconcile what has just transpired. Earth has awoken to a new existence where legend and fables collided with tangibility. In the aftermath of the collision, airlines were innocent casualties. Overnight, the industry suffered almost eighty percent notifications of cancelations.

Tabitha, a Vietnamese stewardess with hazel eyes, picks up the intercom mic with a delightful smile to address the 27 passengers on a flight that 24 hours ago was booked to its 237-capacity limit.

Good evening, travelers, at this time we are set to begin our final approach. The weather is simply beautiful this time of year in France. If you could at this time return your seats and tray tables to their upright positions. We will be landing in Charleroi, in about twenty minutes, where the current temperature is 78 degrees. Please have the required documents ready for customs when we land. As we get closer, I will make the proper announcement giving final instructions.

Hearing the approach bell and instruction by the flight attendant, Jefarious Hennington Dugan uncovers his face by removing his black fedora. He returns his chair to the upright position while placing his hat on over his Jet-black hair with graying temples. He picks up his shot of whiskey and secures his tray table. He throws back the drink relishing the burn in his chest by giving it two thumps to help the firewater go down more smoothly. Suddenly feeling his chair vibrating, he looks over to discover the cause is a young child seated next to him nervously swinging his legs back and forth. Anxiety clearly the culprit of the quickly swinging legs.

Downing the last drops of the whiskey that he didn’t get in the original single gulp; he turns his attention to the little man. I thought kids often clamor and fight to sit next to the window to see the world as Superman does?

My mom is more than welcome to that window, mister. I get little nervous when it comes to high places.

Smiling at the kids’ use of syntax, Dugan was impressed. Smart kid. I completely understand. Me, too, Dugan says, smiling. I get nervous also when it comes to high places. Good to know that I’m not alone in the feeling.

Is that why you were holding that cross around your neck so tightly when you were sleeping?

Hmmph! Was I so obvious?

Mister, you were holding on to that thing for dear life. It looked like it made you happy and not scared. The kid looks at his mom and then back to Dugan. Don’t tell my mom, but I was scared a little bit, but I knew I had to be strong for her. My dad told me I had to be and to watch out for her. Looking at you hold on to your cross to not make you scared, I was thinking I need one of those so I can be strong and able to sleep like you did.

Dugan looks toward the window seat at his mom. She acts like she’s not paying attention to her son, but she is. Dugan caught her a few times giving him the silent judging side eye. He winks with his one good eye at her, letting her know that he sees her very much so paying attention. She smiles back and continues pretending to read her novel. She was just super thankful for the conversation he was providing her son distracting him from his anxiety for the moment.

Little man, I would not have been opposed had you asked to hold my cross… I’d have welcomed it. I’m always willing to share with another that has just as bad nerves as me and in need of comfort. Oh! And also, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell your mom about you being a little bit scared. Dugan reaches behind his neck and unlatches the chain’s catch. He takes it off and passes the cross and chain to the boy. Keep it. It will see you safely to your respective destination.

Mom reaches over to grab the chain. Oh! Father, we couldn’t keep your chain. It’s part of your vestments isn’t it?

Dugan takes hold of her hand and the boys clasping his hands tight around theirs with the cross at its core. It’s fine, mother; the child may keep the chain. It truly is blessed. Besides, I have more. What kind of priest would I be if I didn’t carry extras?

Now that the fedora was off the Priest’s face and on his head, the kid had a clear look at the eyepatch over the priest’s eye.

Cool eyepatch, by the way, mister. You a pirate?

I’m so sorry, Father, she says correcting her son with that experienced mother’s how-do-you-mock-his-infirmity glare.

Everyone that has been a child know the stare; the one that tells you we’ve had this talk of you being rude and asking questions that are insensitive. That stare. But kids will always give that unspoken reply of Yeah, we’ve had the talk, but the insensitive questions make for the best stories.

Jordan, you know better than to ask people such personal insensitive questions. Apologize to the man, that wasn’t nic—

Dugan releases their hands, and leans back into his chair, laughing. It’s okay, mother. Children are innocent and always on and endless quest to learn. He leans in close to the boy and whispers. I myself am not a pirate, but I have lived among them for a short time when I worked missions in distant lands. That is how I lost this. He points to his eyepatch. I was fencing with a real-life pirate without the correct fencing gear and paid a price for carelessness.

A small lie to entertain and encourage the imagination of a child. It’s worth the breakage of morality on this one, he thought. He’d be sure to settle up later with a few Hail Mary’s.

Dugan places his finger to lips and gestures shh! He winks at the boy with his good eye. Now, you’ve been sworn to secrecy, you now know what a great deal many don’t about me… You look the trust worthy type, though. I believe you’ll keep my secret.

The boy, awestricken, looks at Dugan with a glare beyond reverence. Cooool! Till the day I die.

Dugan winks at the boy and his mom again. I knew I could trust you. He holds out his hand. I’m Jefarious, little man.

The boy looks at his mom who shakes her head yes. He turns back to Dugan shaking his hand. Nice to meet you. I’m Jordan Thorne.

****

Charleroi Brussels Airport: An Hour Later

Thirty minutes after landing, Dugan was clear of customs and outside awaiting his Transcappern, a global company that once found its humble beginnings as a rival to Uber before they folded to inept record keeping and miles of corruption. Next to him on the bench is a black single strap back pack and a metal case. He glances at his vidcell to get real up to minute location of his driver. No need to use the holo feature; it’s never practical. Probably why he buys the cheaper version without the expensive trinket feature. A news feed scrolls across the top of his phone in his CNN app, Lucien Arcane in grave condition. Imperial sighting brings world to standstill, Templar Knights claim responsibility for attack at the United Nations.

Mmmph! lightly grunts Dugan studying the photos and recorded feed that was taken of the jack-booted looking troops.

Bye Mr. Jefarious, says Jordan, the little man that was seated next to him on the plane.

The kid waves excitedly showing Dugan his newly acquired cross as he and his mom passes him sitting on the curbside pickup bench.

Dugan nods and waves. Goodbye, young Jordan Thorne. You take care of that cross and your mother… Remember, our secret… aight matey? Arghhh! growls Dugan, making his pirate call hearty.

Arrgh! his young pirate enthusiast growls back to him.

Mom waves goodbye to Dugan, silently mouthing thank you, as she approaches a man exiting the driver seat of the dark Ford something or other. Dugan never really knew much of cars other than you get in and depress the gas pedal. She turns and kisses what the priest can only assume must be her husband. He watches the father gives his son a high five and helps him into the back seat of the SUV. He seems to be nice enough man. At seeing such a sight, it often sets the priest to wondering if he missed out by not having children of his own? It’s a question that he never asked himself in his youth, but as he’s gotten older there comes that nagging thought of mortality. What will I leave behind to mark my passage of time here on this world? The thought is fleeting, though. It’s gone in almost the same instant that it had leapt into his mind to start. There would be no children for him in world that is such a dark place amuck with even darker shadows. A world that hides many things amongst those shadows that consume the pleasantries of children. The world is a dark place that he often lifts the veils from for a peek, time to time.

Picking his son’s bag up, the father waves at Dugan as well after his wife must have spoken kindly of him. A pleasant report of the man sitting in aisle seat C of row 27. Mom makes sure her son is buckled in before taking her seat in the front and fastening her own belt. In a matter of seconds, Dad gets in and there off. Nice family, thinks Dugan. In his mind, they are picturesque, a throwback to what he believes he wanted when he was child compared to the hell of the orphanage, he was raised in. The orphanage, although hard, was relatively safe from shadows that could harm you unlike picturesque families. Orphanages were run by the state with checks and balances which thwarted things like abuse, well for the most part anyways. Picturesque families though, they are what is deceiving. As beautiful as they are in theory, we all know theories lie for the hypothesis which they are founded upon. They are where those shadows lie in wait to consume things like the pleasantries of children. He knows, he’s heard many confessions from such shadows.

Keeping in form of expected social politeness, Dugan replies with the expected social conversational norm by removing his hat and waving a goodbye to the family as they start their journey home. As the dark SUV pulls off, he notices a smoky shadow sitting in the backseat next to the young man Jordan. Dugan places his worn black fedora back on and lifts his eyepatch revealing a horizontal slash through the milky white ball of the eye with a barely visible iris. The slash healed in a manner that many who’ve seen it have called grotesque. Through the blinded grotesque eye though, he’s able to see the world just behind ours; the world what has been called genuineness by scientist, philosophers, and doctors of psychology. What many have called the grotesque eye gives the priest a rare glimpse behind the veil of reality 2814. Jefarious squints refocusing the eye. Instantly the smoky blurred image crystalizes in to a clear image of Death riding in the vehicle with the family.

Mmmmhmm! Dugan lets the eyepatch fall back into place and begins to say a brief prayer while gesticulating the sign of the cross. He stops midway through the prayer thinking: what’s the point? The world is a dark place and consumes things like the pleasantries of children. Jordan Thorne is no different. His pleasantries will be devoured in a matter of moments. Dugan returns to reading the news articles on his inexpensive mobile device, the one without the holo feature.

Four

WARDEN OF THE ABYSS

"I now know that compassion was misplaced in mortals. I no longer have love nor compassion for those that our lovers